


Bitter Coffee

by Sjutton



Category: De Eneste To (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Woops, i just wanted an excuse to write about these two nerds, there's really no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjutton/pseuds/Sjutton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's enjoying the violent weather, and is surprised to see that there's somebody on the street below who's taking it straight-on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Coffee

Peter had always loved thunderstorms. He loved to sit on the tiny patio of his apartment, watching the heavy rains and flashes of light that kept the street clear of people and listening to the daunting cracks of thunder that never failed to send chills down his spine. A part of him liked to be completely alone, and violent thunderstorms like the one he was experiencing then never failed to satisfy.  
This is why he was confused to see a black-clad figure come round the corner and into his line of sight.  
Peter stood up and leaned on the railing, craning his head to get a better look. He wondered what this person was doing out in weather like this—perhaps he was homeless? Or maybe his car had broken down? Whatever the reason, Peter supposed he should do something about it. Nobody deserved to be stuck in the middle of weather like this.  
“Hey!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, straining his voice to register at a higher level than it normally was. He saw the figure look up, so he waved. “Wait up!”  
He dashed back inside his apartment, grabbing his keys from the desk and running out the door. He hurried down the spiral staircase, and was nearly out of breath once he had reached the ground floor. He pushed through the front door, and was surprised to see that the person was standing still in the middle of the sidewalk. The figure was zipped up in a hoodie, and the hood clung to his head and shrouded his features.  
“Hello, uh, I saw you from my apartment and I got kind of worried. This is some damn rough weather, so would you like to come in to warm up and have a cup of coffee? My pleasure,” he said quickly, his face red from exhaustion.  
It was silent for a moment before Peter vaguely heard an affirmative in a masculine-sounding voice. He moved inside to make space for the person to get by, shutting the door tightly once he was inside. A puddle of water was already starting to accumulate on the floor when the figure pushed down his hood. He looked to be about Peter’s age—forty-something, with dark hair and striking blue eyes. His face was set into a serious expression; Peter wondered if it just came naturally.  
“Thank you,” the man said, pushing his sopping hair back from his face and extending a hand that was quite heavily adorned with rings. “I’m Simon.”  
“Peter, nice to meet you.” He shivered at the feeling of the man’s cold palm and freezing rings. “My apartment isn’t too far up, just follow me.”  
The two climbed in silence, the only sounds being the angry downpour from outside and the tapping of Simon’s boots on the metal stairs. Peter unlocked his door with a click and held the door open, gesturing for Simon to go first. He was surprised when the man didn’t even hesitate; he would think that most people would feel a little nervous going into a stranger’s apartment by themselves. Despite this, he made sure to hint Simon that the door was unlocked, so he could go whenever he pleased.  
“Please, have a seat. I’ll go get you a towel and a blanket.”  
Simon stripped off his dripping hoodie and hung it on the coat rack by the door, leaning back into the cushions and seeming to fall limp. Peter brought back a thick quilt and a white bath towel, which he unfolded and awkwardly lay over Simon. “Light or dark?”  
“Dark, please. Make it bitter.”  
Peter impatiently waited for the beans to be ground and, two minutes later, returned to the living room with two steaming cups of joe. He pushed one over to Simon and plopped two sugar cubes into his own, sinking into the couch on the opposite side of Simon and crossing his legs.  
“So, what is it that brings you outside in this weather?” Peter asked tentatively.  
Simon took a long drink from his coffee, his rings clinking against the porcelain. “Went to visit my mother. Don’t have a car, so I walked. I told her something, and she… made me leave, let’s put it that way. It started pouring and I called the four people I know. They were all busy. Didn’t wanna wait, so I just decided to walk back again.”  
Peter took a sip from his cup. Simon’s tone was dark and bitter as his coffee; it seemed as if he had just gone through something serious. Peter felt like he should do something to make him feel better, but… Peter had always done better at simply observing and reading emotions. He was not fit to offer emotional support.  
Holding his cup with both hands, he met the other man’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”  
“For what?” Simon asked, glancing down at his coffee. His eyebrow twitched, and for just a moment, Peter could see a flash of depression in his eyes.  
“Whatever happened to you.”  
Simon was silent. It appeared as if he kept his emotions under lock and key; Peter didn’t blame him.  
“Thanks.” His response was very quiet; Peter could hardly hear it over the deafening crashes of thunder. “It means a lot.”  
A pause. “You don’t say that often, do you?” Peter questioned.  
Simon looked up, his eyebrow raised in confusion. “What?”  
Peter could feel that he was blushing in embarrassment. He wasn’t completely sure why he had asked such a question. “Er, nevermind.”  
They sat in silence as the storm raged outside, Peter willing his face to return back to a normal shade. He raised his cup to his mouth again, but found that it was empty. Sighing, he fell back into the cushions.  
“Do you make music?”  
Peter looked up, meeting Simon’s bright blue gaze. “Yes, actually. I sing and play guitar.”  
“Ah, so I thought right. You seem like a music kind of guy. I do what you do, plus I also play keyboard.” Simon’s lips curled up into a half-smile.  
“Ever been in a band? Or do you do solo?” Peter questioned.  
“Yeah, actually, I’m in one now.” Simon smirked.  
“Oh. I go solo, most of the time.” Peter said, earning a nod from the other man.  
“Interesting, interesting. I’d’ve thought you were part of a duo. With your girlfriend or something.”  
“Naw, but it’d be interesting to be. Not with a girlfriend though.” Peter snorted.  
“Ha. I feel you, dude.” Simon chuckled, adjusting his blanket. Yet another moment of silence passed—yet, this time, it was even quieter.  
“Hey, did the storm pass?” Simon thought out loud.  
“Sounds like it. I’ll go see.” Peter pushed himself up from the couch and walked over to the patio door, leaving it ajar after him. Simon was right behind him, holding the quilt around his body tightly. “Looks like it’s gone,” Peter commented as he surveyed the wet streets.  
“I guess I’ll be going then. Thanks for everything.” Simon said, turning back into the apartment.  
“Wait!”  
Simon shrugged off the quilt, laying it on the couch and looking back as Peter joined him. “What is it?”  
Peter grinned. “Let me at least get your number first.”  
He wasn’t really sure why he wanted it; something about Simon just seemed to intrigue him. Maybe it was the rings, maybe it was his chiselled attitude, or maybe it was just _him_. Whatever it was, Simon didn’t seem to mind Peter’s request. In fact, he seemed a little _too_ eager to scribble down those eight numbers on a scrap of paper Peter had ripped from his songwriting notebook.  
“It was nice to meet you. Thanks again for everything.” Simon stuck out his hand again. “I’ll repay you somehow.”  
“You don’t need to.” Peter assured him, shaking his hand. “Actually, there is one thing—you wanna do lunch tomorrow?”  
“Yeah, sure.” Simon nodded. “See you.”  
Peter thought he saw Simon grin as he turned away, but maybe it was just his imagination.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering--yeah, Simon was disowned. Might you be able to guess what for? *laughs exasperatedly*


End file.
